


Reckless

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death Fix, F/F, Fix-It, Healing, Holding Hands, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Non-Explicit Sex, Ophilia Ships It, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26219239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Primrose prayed for an apothecary or a cleric, and that day the gods saw fit to be generous, for she received both.
Relationships: Ophilia Clement & Alfyn Greengrass, Primrose Azelhart/Yusufa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Press Start VI





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zorealis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorealis/gifts).



Primrose tried not to think about the last time she'd seen this much blood, from behind an old wooden counter, and focused on applying pressure to Yusufa's wound. The colour had already drained from her skin, staining her flimsy garments a sickening purplish-red. She'd never been much for praying, but right then it seemed as if a few utterances for Aelfric, the Flamebringer, and Dohter, the Charitable, would not go amiss. After all, the few prayers she'd whispered to the Lady of Grace as a girl had not fallen on deaf ears, but Sealticge was not the trickster that some of the other gods appeared to be. She hoped that the same was true of Aelfric and Dohter.

That day, as it happened, both gods saw fit to be kind. When Primrose first caught sight of the two strangers approaching, she immediately recognised the young woman as a sister of the Church, and her scruffy, sandy-haired companion had the look of a travelling apothecary - if said apothecary had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

"You've done a great job here," the sister said, as sheepskin gloved hands replaced Primrose's. A soft halo formed around the stab wound as her healing magic slowed the bleeding. Primrose winced as Yusufa squirmed beneath the stranger's hands, her flesh knitting itself back together. "I'll take over for now - you ought to rest. I'm Ophilia, by the way, and this is Alfyn."

"Nice to meet ya," said tall, gangly Alfyn. "Shame about the circumstances, but I've never met a better healer than Ophilia." He gave her a roguish wink. "Your friend'll be up and about before you know it." That seemed like an exaggeration, given how much blood had been spilled but Primrose had to admit his confidence was comforting, and while he and Ophilia were both young, she got the impression that they did know what they were doing.

Alfyn proved to be stronger than his lanky frame let on when he carried her back along the path towards Sunshade. They had coin enough for a room at the inn, and it was a relief not to have to return to dancers' accommodation. Neither Primrose nor Yusufa had exactly been on the best terms with the other dancers, and Helgenish's death by her hand would only have complicated matters further. In truth, she couldn't hold it against them. Every barbed word against her could be traced back to Helgenish and his machinations, which had never been so subtle to any of them as he'd believed.

When Yusufa woke, she certainly wasn't ready to be 'up and about' as Alfyn had put it, but she was able to sit up in bed. Primrose sat on the edge of the mattress, marveling at how few lumps it had. It almost reminded her of home, but she pushed that thought aside for now. She would find her father's murderers and she would make them pay, but right now her primary concern was Yusufa. For a few moments, they simply looked at one another, their quiet contemplation interrupted only by the sounds of Alfyn's pestle and mortar, and the soft shuffling of Ophilia's pure white cloak and dress as she rose from her chair.

"We'll give the two of you some privacy," she said, gently tapping Alfyn's arm, "I imagine you have things to discuss." Alfyn glanced at them, and then back to his partially ground herbs with a sigh.

"Yeah, this can wait. Besides, I'm parched, and the next round's on you." He flashed Primrose a grin. "We'll be in the tavern if you need anythin'."

"Thank you. Both of you have already done so much for us." As well as carrying Yusufa, Alfyn had provided an iron-rich concoction he'd devised as treatment for blood loss, and was working on creating another from ingredients that Primrose and Ophilia had harvested on the road back into town - under his guidance, naturally.

"Aww, shucks," Alfyn said, which Primrose found equal parts amusing and adorable, especially with the tinge of pink in his cheeks. "I'm an apothecary, just doin' my job." She caught Yusufa trying not to laugh as Ophilia gently steered him towards the hallway.

"You're welcome, and we'll see you in the evening. Help yourself to the bread in my pack if you get hungry." Before Primrose could thank Ophilia again, the door shut behind her, leaving her alone with Yusufa.

The thing was that, with Yusufa, she'd never felt alone.

Even on the darkest nights, when Primrose dragged her sore, tired feet back to the barracks, when she feared that her hunger for vengeance would instead consume _her,_ or, worse still, when she lay awake wondering if the tales she'd heard of the man with the mark of the crow having business here were no more than baseless rumours. Even then, Yusufa had wrapped her gentle arms around Primrose to keep her from shivering through the cold desert night. Having spent all her life in the Sunlands and far away from Noblecourt's more temperate climes, Yusufa had been used to the drastic drops in temperature.

This time Yusufa was the one trembling with cold, and Primrose was the one to slip beneath the covers beside her, hot and cold bodies pressed neatly together like two pieces of a puzzle. Primrose sighed as Yusufa rested her head on her shoulder.

"Not that I don't appreciate what you did for me, but...that was incredibly reckless." It was a statement, rather than a chastisement. Primrose was many things, but she was not a hypocrite. Had their roles been reversed, she would have done the very same things. Besides...

"You're one to talk, Prim, though I always knew there was more to you than meets the eye. And...I'm glad I was reckless."

"I'm glad you were _lucky."_ Her hand found Yusufa's beneath the covers. "And I know I'm in no position to tell anyone how to live their life but...please don't make a habit of it." She squeezed Yusufa's hand as her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't want to lose anyone else. I don't want to lose _you."_

"I can't promise that," Yusufa said slowly, and tilted her head to kiss Primrose's lightly freckled cheek, "but I can try, for you."

"I'd never ask you to make a promise I know I couldn't keep myself." Primrose caught her lips with her own, gently nipping at them with her teeth, and let Yusufa guide her hand over her chilly, goose-pimpled thigh, towards the sticky heat between her legs. "You _must_ be feeling better. Thank Aelfric and Dohter for healing magic and alchemy!" She smiled as she felt Yusufa's warm, sweet laughter against her lips, and a tremble against her hand that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold.


End file.
